A Friendly Chat
by darthsydious
Summary: What happens when the daughter of Sherlock Holmes is old enough now that boys start noticing her? John and Mycroft have a system. They sit the boy down and have a nice, friendly chat. Ish.


Jason Aubrey liked that Holmes girl. She was pretty, smart, like, _really_ smart, and she was funny. She didn't seem too keen on making a lot of friends, and she didn't try and get in with the popular girls. And thus far, she'd told him how to improve his football game, and she corrected his scissor kick by means of a dry-erase board and some mathematical equations. He didn't understand most of it, but when a beautiful girl pulls you aside and sits you down, you tend to listen to whatever she has to say to you. Or at least try to.

She invited him to her flat to help him with his math, which she promised would improve his game on the football field. He was hoping it'd improve his chances with her. He had the address written down on a slip of paper in his pocket. Whistling to himself, he hurried down the sidewalk, finding himself on the corner of Baker Street.

"Jason Aubrey?" he pulled an earbud out, turning to see a thin, tall man waiting by a black car, hair graying at his temples.

"Yeah?"

"You would please to get in," he opened the door for him. Jason snorted.

"You cracked?" he laughed.

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes. Snapping his fingers, he nodded for the two men on the other side of the car to grab the boy.

"You sure this is legal?" John asked, watching as the two men shoved a sack over Jason's head, zip tied his hands and shoved him in the car.

"Why?" Mycroft asked.

After a ten minute car-ride, Jason was pushed out of the car, trotted across a cold room, it sounded like an empty car park, and shoved down onto a chair, to which he was promptly tied. The bag was ripped off his head, and suddenly there was a bright, white light shining in his face. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the light. The tall man was there, leaning on the handle of an umbrella. Another, shorter man, stood nearby, hands in his pockets. The light that was almost blinding him was on a stand, shining in his face.

"Dim the light so our…pal can see." The thin man said. Someone reached up, turning down the bulb.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Jason asked.

"To talk, Master Aubrey, nothing more I assure you."

"I ain't done nothing, now let me go!"

"Double negative," Mycroft tsked to John, he swiveled back to the boy. "You've been seen in the company of a Miss Josephine Violet-Marie Holmes," Jason's gaze was shifty then, he squirmed in his chair.

"What if I have?"

"What are your intentions towards her?"

"What do you mean? She's just helping me with my football game, helps me figure out the right shots to take,"

"Hmm, I'll bet, you intend to…try and make time with her-" the thin man turned back to the short one. "Is that what they say nowadays? 'Make time',?" the shorter man shrugged in answer. The thin man pulled from his pocket Jason's wallet.

"You stole that from me!"

"Borrowed, merely wanted to ascertain your intentions, ah," he held up a packet of condoms. The shorter man affixed a glare to him.

"Look, my dad gave me those, I never used em, I never wanted to yet…okay?" Jason was beet red. Mycroft turned his back to him, facing John.

"What do you think?" he asked quietly, out of earshot. John studied the boy over Mycroft's shoulder.

"Lying."

"Pretend you don't know Josephine." John looked back at Jason.

"Still lying. No boy carries those without intending to use them. I sure as hell didn't."

"Hm. One of the baser instincts I thank God I never had to endure."

"I'm sure," John snorted. He glanced back at the kid, struggling to get free. Mycroft studied him a moment.

"Well go on then, do what you usually do." John came around him, heading over to the teen.

"I haven't done anything, I swear, me and Josephine were just gonna study together-"

"Study," the shorter man nodded. He grabbed Jason by the jacket, pulling him forward. "You listen, and you listen good-" he was strong, the short man, he would have hauled Jason off the chair, had he not been tied to it. "You touch her, you so much as _look_ at her wrong and we hear about it, I come looking for you, so you'd better watch it-"

"Do hold back somewhat, it's a warning, not a threat to be carried out," the clipped voice of the tall man said and the shorter man set Jason down again. "Not yet, anyway," the smile was wicked, and Jason was quite sure that these two men, whoever they were, would carry out any and all implied threats. He removed the packet of condoms, tossing the wallet to the ground. The thin man waved over two men, who untied him. Heading back to the car, the thin man twirled the umbrella in his hand.  
"Recall what we said, if ever your tiny mind thinks for a moment you have a chance in hell with Miss Holmes." He called over his shoulder. The thin man said nothing in response, glaring at him as he passed by.

"I'm gonna report you to the police!" Jason's voice carried over to them. The thin man turned back, chuckling.

"By all means," he nodded agreeably. "Shall I call them for you?" Jason realized they meant to leave him where he was.

"Hey! Hey you can't leave me here!"

"I think we can," the thin man said, shutting the door. "You're still in London," he said. "If it helps, five miles north is a bus station, where it takes you is entirely up to you. I'd avoid Baker street if I were you, if you thought we were bad, you've vastly underestimated her father."

"Her father?" Jason asked a touch of fear in his voice. "Sherlock Holmes…is Josephine's father?"

"God they get duller every time…" Mycroft rolled his eyes. He faced forward, rolling up the window. "Drive on." The car pulled away, leaving Jason behind in a cloud of dust.

~O~

**Several Hours Later**

"I thought you were expecting that friend of yours," Molly said. Josephine shrugged, looking up from her laptop.

"I was, he was supposed to come by so I could help him with his algebra, but I guess he couldn't make it," Suddenly her phone lit up, so she swiped her thumb across the screen, unlocking it. She read the text, a frown forming. "Oh for pities-sake Uncle Watson!" Josephine jumped off her bed, thumping down the hall of 221b and out into the living room.

John Watson, who wasn't technically her uncle, but was as good as, sat in his chair reading the paper, her real Uncle, her father's brother, sat opposite, a cup of tea in his hands.  
"What did you two do this time?" Josephine asked.  
"What?" both men looked innocent as doves, though there was a shared twinkle in their eyes.

"If you are referring to that insipid boy you were going to tutor, he was beneath you, Josephine," Mycroft said. "He certainly wasn't coming over to have you improve his mind, nor his football score."

"Who?" Sherlock asked. He'd been in his corner, tuning his violin.

"Just…someone from school," Josephine said quickly. Molly nearly squealed, clapping her hands over her mouth. Sherlock was suddenly reminded of Mrs. Hudson and felt a small pang in his heart for the dear old woman, almost four years dead now.

"Who?" he asked again, frowning at his daughter. Josephine rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.  
"His name is Jason he's on the football team, he's very nice, he needed help with his algebra, if he improves in his studies, he can stay on the team, Mr. Halloway asked me to tutor him."

"Marvelous, our daughter is falling for dunces."

"He isn't a dunce!" Josephine said hotly. "He's just…not…keen on schoolwork."

"He's a _dunce_," Sherlock reiterated. "Besides, you know the house rule; you aren't allowed to date anyone until you're the same age your mother was when she married me."

"She was _thirty_-_four_," Josephine whined, sagging from the waist down.

"And all the wiser for waiting," Sherlock quipped.

"Da, you've _got_ to trust me,"

"Sherlock," Molly began.

"Molly," he answered. She threw her hands up, rolling her eyes. She could work on him later, when he wasn't backed up by the Good Cop and Bad Cop duo in her living room.

"I do trust you," he said to Josephine. "It's the grubby little boys I don't trust,"

"Honestly," Mycroft said. "We did you a favor, think what would have happened to him if your father heard before we did." John was smirking behind the paper, almost laughing.

"Remember that Pritchards boy?"

"Ugh," Josephine tossed her curls at them, stomping back to her room.

"You are going to have to let her go out sometime," Molly said, handing him a cup of tea, which he accepted, setting aside his violin.

"I will, when she's your age."

"I mean it, Sherlock," she turned to the others. "And you two as well,"

"When we find one that is worthy of her, then perhaps we'll stop threatening them," Mycroft said.

"When will that be?"

"Probably not until she's thirty-four," Sherlock said with a decisive nod.

"Even then," John said. Molly rolled her eyes, taking her place on the couch. The three men all exchanged secretive smiles. Yes, even when Josephine was thirty-four, there would still be an inquiry or two, regarding the man who thought himself worthy to date the daughter of Sherlock and Molly Holmes.


End file.
